Mosaic
by Hettie Grace
Summary: When a young woman leaves her life in Paris to take a position as a governess for a house in England, she gets more than she bargained for. Christine has lived her life in silence since her mother's death and Farleigh House may just teach her how to live.
1. Chapter I

**_Author's Note_ : So, hello there. I'm relatively new at this. I wrote a few stories when I was in high school, but I haven't been on my page for those in years. I thought I'd start over and this idea just to mind. I'm still iffy about it but I'm hoping it works. This story is a Phantom of the Opera inspired story but it's heavily influenced by Jane Eyre and has some Beauty and the Beast themes in it. It's set in the mid-late 1800's near the times Jane Eyre and Phantom of the Opera took place. I've always loved the Victorian and Edwardian eras and both stories take place in the Victorian Era. Of course one is in England and one is in France but the culture and dress of the time fit for both. I've made this story so Christine's father is still alive and she hasn't gone to the opera house. Really this story will have very little to do with the opera but will retain the major characters of Phantom of the Opera. I apologize if it's a bit of a rocky start but I'll ask you to bear with me to see where it goes.**

* * *

It was a cold and rainy day, hardly suitable for a walk. A reminder of the day her mother was placed in the ground. Her father became a widower that day, a result of the sickness that had wracked her body for years. Although it pained her to say so, it was a blessing her end had finally come. Her mother was free from suffering. As were she and her father, free from sitting idly by with no way to help.  
That day was long ago now, only a distant memory but the effects still remained. Her father was so distant and quiet nowadays. She worried of course, how could she not? The sadness that filled their house was becoming unbearable. From the time she was 7 it was all she had known in their home, and now 15 years of , she didn't know how much longer she could handle it. Sighing, she tapped her nails against the glass. Nothing could be done of the weather or limit in activities. She'd been daydreaming for nearly three hours and it was time to put an end to her boredom. It would never be done if she didn't do it soon. And she would not live like this any longer, she would not live this facade of a real life. To say that she had lived an unhappy childhood would be wrong. She could recall a time when there had been laughter, when their home was filled with music and light. But it had been her mother who had taught her all she knew; her love of literature, music, to be compassionate, and understanding. Since her passing there was little light.

The sound of a cup breaking and a yell broke her out of her daydreams.  
"Christine!" More than likely her father had hurt himself in a fit of frustration. If anything, these past several years had been harder on him than on his daughter. She made her way to where he sat in the study, careful to move the china set away from him.  
"Yes papa, I heard you call and the crash. You haven't hurt yourself again have you?"  
"Again?", he looked up at her with tired eyes and back down again. "No, no nothing like that. It simply slipped is all. Don't worry about cleaning it either Christine dear, please."

If there was one thing she could truly still admire about her father it was the way he said her name. Christine. He said it with so much love. She was the last thing he had of her mother, and she knew he loved her dearly. It was simply difficult for him to make it clear since he'd lost his wife. Christine's mother had named her after her closest childhood friend. From what her parents had told her they had been made for each other. It was evident from the way they looked at one another and the way her father had closed in on himself after her death that they had only ever loved each other. They had something rare in their marriage, they had love. They were affectionate with one another, had nicknames; she called him her goose instead of Gustave and he called her his squirrel rather than Nora. The thought alone made Christine smile with even the hope of something like that existing.

"Christine?" She softly shook her head to look back at him.  
"Yes papa I'm here." He patted the seat beside him indicating that she sit.  
"I've been wanting to discuss something with you."  
"Oh?"  
"Yes", he nodded, "You've been quieter than usual, like you're hiding something." Christine absently fingered the lace on her sleeves and looked towards the ground. "Is there something you'd like to discuss with me?"

There was a long moment of silence that followed before she took and breath and began.  
"Yes, it's- well I've been… Let me begin again. Papa you know I love you, and I never want you to believe that I don't. Please know that papa." Gustave narrowed his eyes and nodded, confused.

"Of course I know that Christine. I know these past years since your mother- well since then- have been difficult and I haven't been the best with you but I do at least know that. Is everything alright?"  
"Oh yes! It's nothing bad. I've only been nervous to ask you is all. But let me just say everything before you give me an answer or not please?" He nodded his consent.

"Well, I've been thinking, now that I'm old enough and I have been for quite some time now. I'm well versed in music and literature an- and I'm fluent in english and french! I want to put that all to use." She looked down to the floor again, shuffling her feet. "And a few months ago I saw an advertisement for a position as governess for the children of a house in England." Her father's eyes opened wide at this with protest. "I know, I know it's far! It's a long ways away papa but I need-" She paused to gather her thoughts and form her words the right way. "I need to be able to spread wings. I want to go out and live my life and if I could do this. If I could take this position and prove myself. I could use it to make a name for myself, I could pay for my own home and… and I could pay for you. Please papa I've already sent word to the house that I may be interested in the position. All I have to do know is tell them I want it and I'll be coming soon. Please papa, let me do this. For me, for both of us. I can't stay here and do nothing anymore. Please."

Christine couldn't think of anything else to say but she continued to look at him with pleading eyes. Gustave moved his eyes from Christine and turned his chair towards her. He ran a hand over his face, the years of stress having obviously taken a toll on him. Christine was still waiting and was losing hope by the second. "Papa?" He took her hands in his and patted them. After the years of silence and what could only be difficult on his daughter he wanted nothing else but for her to be happy. But how could he let her go? How could he let go of the one thing that had kept him happy since his wife? He couldn't make her stay but her couldn't let her leave.  
"Christine-" Her face fell before he could even begin.  
"No, no it's okay papa. It was only a thought. But really I'll be fine! I don't need to go-"  
"Christine please let me finish. Award me the same courtesy I gave you dear?"  
"Yes of course papa." But she kept her eyes down.  
"Now what I was going to say was that as much as I would love for you to stay here in France with me, I knew the day would come when I would have to let you go. You're a woman now Christine and of course I don't want you to live but I want you to be happy." He paused and smiled at her. "And if this is what will make you happy then I want you to go." Christine couldn't believe it and her father could tell from the look on her face. She jumped up quicker than he could react to.  
"Papa! Oh papa! Do you mean it? You're really fine with me going? Oh my goodness!" She hugged him hard, nearly knocking him over in the process. Her laughter filled the room, it brought a sense of joy that Gustave hadn't felt in years. "This is incredible! I have to pack, I have to gather my materials. Oh and I have to write them of course! I can't wait to get there and begin!" She bounced all over the room, hardly being able to contain herself.

"Christine please, I'm much older than you dear." He scolded her, but he couldn't help smiling at how excited she was.  
"Oh yes papa, I'm sorry!" But she hardly looked it. She bounded for the door, still hardly believing her luck. "I'll be upstairs packing my things if you need me papa. And I'll write them tonight as well to say I'm coming!" She moved for the door and paused before turning back to look at him.  
"And papa?" He smiled softly at her. "Thank you. Thank you so very much."

Then she ran down the hall toward the stairs, giggling all the way.


	2. Chapter II

_Author's Note:_ So, I know this may seem like a filler chapter now, but it will serve a purpose as the story progresses. I've always thought that, next to having wonderful main characters, there should be secondary characters that are just as important. Same as in our lives, everyone we meet plays a role, so I'm going to try to build a strong set of base characters throughout the story. I've been sick all day in bed so I've had some time to think about where I want this story to go. And again please let me know if you notice anything or have any suggestions, please let me know!

Best, Hettie Grace

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 **Chapter 2:**

The days between Christine's acceptance of the position and the date she was set to leave had the entire house on edge. It was only a week more and she would be leaving for a new country. Her constant giddiness and echoing laughter had created an aura of happiness that hadn't been seen in years. Even with the damp weather it seemed as though her spirits were lifting everyday. She could hardly contain herself and the prospect of what was to come.

"Christine _please_ , you'll ruin that dress if you spill on it." Sarah had been with the family for as long as Christine could remember. Her mother had worked for her parents and she and Christine had grown up together. They were nearly the same age and Sarah had always been treated as family, but still insisted on taking over the position as maid for them.

"Oh Sarah please, it hardly matters! I can think of nothing else but what's to come!" A laugh followed with the shuffling of fabric as she jumped from the bed to the floor, dangerously close to a cup of tea.

"I haven't seen you like this in years. At least not since we were children." Sarah continued to fold clothes, helping Christine to find the proper clothe for her position. "I remember your mother used to take us out into the field to the walnut tree. She would tell us stories about princesses and dragons. Do you remember Christine?" She turned to see the other woman nod and smile softly.

"I do," Christine nodded and rested her head against a bedpost. "I remember my favorite story, Little Lottie and the Angel of Music. Mother used to tell me if I was good and I obeyed, then the angel of music would visit me." She laid back against the plush blankets covering her bed. "Do you think mother would be proud of me Sarah?"

"Proud? Of course Christine, why wouldn't she be?"

She simply shook her head before pausing to think.

"I don't know… It's just that sometimes I feel like she would have been disappointed in me. I haven't taken very good care of my father since she died. And don't say I was only a child when it happened," she said, promptly stopping Sarah from making the argument. "I know I was young but I let things become so quiet and dull." She rolled to her stomach before grabbing a pillow to place under her chin. "It's been almost dead."

The other woman studied her for several moments. Christine was a beautiful girl, anyone would say so. Sarah had often been jealous of her lush bouncing curls, the vibrant brunette hair, her soft and fair skin. She could be equated to an angel with looks such as hers. But there was something in her eyes. There was a sadness that kept her from being as beautiful as she could be. Sarah had noticed it through the years but never said anything of it. Still, it was there, just as obvious as the sky was blue. But it was when Christine smiled that she noticed it most. Her smile never reached her eyes. If there was anything Sarah hoped for the girl next to her, it was for her to have that light back.

"If I may Christine, could I offer you some words of wisdom?" At this she heard Christine snicker.

" _Wisdom_ please Sarah, you're hardly my elder."

"Yes I know Christine, but I do still know a few things." The girl next to her turned on her side towards her.

"Very well miss, please do tell you're 'words of wisdom' as you call them." She made a flourishing gesture with her hand and smirked. Well if she wanted to be that way, Sarah would just have to ignore it.

"I'll pretend you aren't mocking me _miss_ and proceed. Now what I was going to say was that I do not think your mother would be disappointed in you. How could she be? Christine you've grown into a beautiful, educated, compassionate woman. I think- no, no. I _know_ she would be extremely proud of you." She turned to see if her audience was listening and was surprised to find that at least the girl had the courtesy to blush. "As for your father, well I'll say it anyways, you were only a child when you're mother died. You couldn't be expected to grow up and care for your father. How could you be? You were mourning the loss of your mother, and I can bet you still are. It was no one's job to take care of your father except for himself." Christine nodded and processed what Sarah had said.

"Do you think he'll be alright though Sarah? I'm worried that once I'm gone he won't be able to make it through each day. I worry about him so very much." Her voice fell slightly and she could feel the sting of tears threatening to form.

"Don't you worry about him a bit Christine, I'll take good care of him. After all, who else will he have to yell at when he breaks the China, hm?" Her attempt at a joke had them both giggling. Christine sighed and rolled over onto her back.

"I suppose you're right, I have nothing to worry about where he's concerned. I know you'll care for him." She sighed and fidgeted with her hands before groaning. "I'm just so nervous about this position! It's just general nervousness but really I'm so excited and as much as I hate to say it, I'm happy to be starting my own life."

"As much as it will hurt to see you go, I'm equally as excited at the prospect of your new life. I sincerely hope you find yourself happy there. It's all I want for you." She tried her best to convey that in her expression. Sarah sat down on the bed next to Christine and took her hand. Both girls shared a look that could only be explained by the years they'd known each other.

"I hope so too Sarah, I hope so too. And thank you for this. I needed this talk." Sarah simply nodded and turned her attention to the ceiling.

"Although," Christine continued, "I do wonder who scold me when I _fold my towels wrong_." She followed with a confident smirk only to receive a hard slap on the shoulder.

"Oh Christine you never change," Sarah smiled, shaking her head. "And I hope you never do."


	3. Chapter III

_Author's Note_ : Hello all! I apologize for the long delay in posting. I just finished a production of Urinetown and it took up a lot of my time. But now that's finished, I have plenty of time on my hands so chapters should go up faster than before! Again please let me know if you notice anything or have any suggestions, please let me know!

Dkk5: I'm sorry, I should have made that clearer. She is 22. I tried to make her a bit older and more mature than she was in ALW, Kay, and Leroux's versions. And thank you!

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 **Chapter 3:**

To say Christine was excited would be an understatement. Over a week's travel by ship, train, and carriage had left her more than exhausted. But even the wind and waves, and couldn't shake the anticipation of what was to come. The leaving was the hardest part. Christine had hardly gone a day without seeing her father or friends at the house, and now it would be a long while before they spoke. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the look on her father's face as she told him goodbye.

" _Papa please no tears! This isn't forever." Christine could hardly stand the tears beginning to form in her own eyes, let alone the ones in her father's. She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the ground to keep from crying._

" _I know Christine, I know. But you're my little girl, how can I not show a little emotion?" They both smiled a bit at that. "I realize that since your mother's death, I've been distant and not the best father, but I have always loved you. You have always been my daughter, my little girl."_

" _Oh, papa!" She couldn't take it anymore, and the tears began to fall. She rushed into his arms, holding on as tight as she could._

" _Are you sure you don't want to stay? You could find a job here, in our house. I could pay you to just sit and stay home. You would never need to leave!" For the past several days Gustave had asked Christine the same question. He had been trying to defuse the rising tension and emotions in the days before her leaving. She offered a small laugh to humor his efforts._

" _You wish. I'll not end up as some old woman living alone in her father's home. No thank you sir, I don't think so." She tapped his nose with her index finger for emphasis. Christine smiled for several moments, holding her father's gaze._

" _I'll miss you papa, so very much. I love you, you know that. Don't you?" He was silent for several moments before answering._

" _Of course I do child. But now it's time for you to leave. You must make you own way in the world. It's time for you to leave your grumpy old father and start your own journey. It's simply… I'm only having a difficult time letting you go. You're all I have left." She started to cry again before she could even begin to protest._

" _Now come dear, if you don't leave now, you won't ever leave. And you have a ship to catch, don't be late." He sobered and ushered her towards the hansom cab he had called. Her bags had already been packed on but she had been delaying getting on herself. Slowly she climbed in, feeling herself unravel._

" _Papa please don't be like this. I'm not leaving you… I'm- I'm making my own way, like you said. Please understand that." She pleaded with him as the door shut, Christine couldn't herself leave like this._

" _I do. Just be happy. Don't think about what you've left here." Gustave took her hand, pressing a kiss to it before signaling the driver to leave. Christine could feel more tears welling in eyes, threatening to make their way down her cheeks._

" _I will be happy," she said as she began to pull away. "And I'll visit, I promise. This isn't forever."_

Christine shook her head to remind herself of the present. She would miss her father but she couldn't let that put a damper on her mood. Today was to be her first day at the house, Farleigh House, if she remembered correctly. She knew nothing about the people she would be working for nor what working for someone would even be like. If she was being honest she had never worked a day in her life outside of her father's home. She was, to say the least, a little bit nervous.

"Come now Christine, buck up. You can do this." She nodded sharply to help convince herself. "You've come this far so you'd best move girl… And stop talking to yourself Christine, it's hardly proper." She reached into her bodice to remove a note she had received earlier at her hotel.

 _Miss Daaé,_

 _We were pleased to hear you arrived in England safely and so very quickly. If you could join us at Farleigh house at your earliest convenience, it would be greatly appreciated. \_ With gratitude,

 _Mrs. Giry_

 _Housekeeper of the Farleigh House_

Christine gripped the note in her hand before smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt and straightening herself. She gripped sleeve before raising a hand to knock on the door.


	4. Chapter IV

_Author's Note:_ Hello again everyone! Back again so soon! Like I said, I'll be posting chapters much quicker now that I have so much time on my hands. I know I've only done two characters at a time so far, I'll be adding on a few more in the next chapter after this one. It might be a few chapters before we meet Christine's mysterious employer though. I've decided to make Madame Giry more of what Mrs. Potts is like. So she's a bit warmer and less imposing, but will still have that same fierceness and motherly personality. Once again, if you have any questions, suggestions, or notice any discrepancies let me know!

Child of Music and Dreams: Whoops you're right and I've changed the summary to fit it. Thanks for pointing that out!

Dkk5: I didn't even mean to do a cliff hanger but don't worry it won't be long!

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 **Chapter Four**

It was an elderly woman who answered when she knocked. She looked nearly surprised and slightly cross to see someone at the door. Christine took a moment to examine the woman in front of her. She was old and looked it but there was a beauty about her that proved she was once a great beauty. Her eyes, though hard at the moment, had a softness to them, something Christine hoped she could get to know.

"I'm sorry to disturb you madam- I mean ma'am, but I was told to come over as soon as I could." She produced the letter to the woman to show her she meant well. "I'm the governess, Christine Daaé. Mrs. Giry wrote me?" She bit her lip in an effort to calm her anxiety. It was then that the woman suddenly animated herself.

"Oh yes! Of course dearie, I am Alice Giry, the housekeeper here. Please please come in!" She ushered the younger woman in, reaching to help her with her bags. "If you'll follow me to the library I'll explain some things to you and then we can get you settled in. This way miss."

This was of course an all new experience for Christine and she had to fight to keep herself collected. She had grown up in a nice house but it was nothing like this. This was breathtaking, unlike anything she had ever seen. The architecture was exquisite and it was clear that such care and detail had gone into building this home. She barely noticed when Mrs. Giry turned into another room, exiting the hallway.

"In here Miss Daaé, on your right."

"Mrs. Giry I have to say this is the most beautiful home I have ever seen. It's so unique and- well I don't really know how to describe my feelings towards it." The older woman nodded in agreement and smiled softly.

"Tea?" Christine nodded. "Yes the master's family has been… I suppose the only word for it could be eccentric. And to think this house has only been in the family since his grandfather built it for his grandmother. He does love to talk about this house and its history so I'll leave it to him to tell you more." If she was being honest, Alice Giry didn't like to talk about her employers grandparents but she wouldn't discuss that with the young girl quite yet. She looked far too kind to be anything like them, at least that was what she had noticed in the few short minutes she had known her.

"Now dear I believe there a few things I should inform you on." She waited for Christine to acknowledge before continuing. "As you know you have been brought here to be governess for the children. There are two of them, Iago and Victoria."

"And their mother?"

A look of confusion passed over Mrs. Giry's face. "Mother?"

"Yes, you're … master, who is his wife?" At this a look of horror appeared on the other woman's face, followed by several moments of uncomfortable silence.

"Well he- that is to say… I'm not sure how to explain that. However they aren't his children."

"Not his?"

"Oh no dear, they're mine!" At this Christine was surprised. She had never heard of a man calling on a governess for the children of his employees. What a strange man.

"Yes, miss Daaé they're my children. I've three all together, Meg is my oldest. She works in the house now, actually she's more than likely up making your bed now dear. Now as for payment, Mr. Destler will take of that personally when he returns, but if there are any questions you're not inclined to ask him: don't be afraid to ask me. And that goes for anything." It was kind of her to be so welcoming but there was one thing Christine took from her statement.

"Destler? I'm sorry is he the owner of the house?"

"Oh yes! Mr. Erik Destler. He's a unique man dear. You'll want to keep from him as much as possible. Some of the staff have never even seen him." Christine opened her mouth to question but was cut off.

"Look at me talking my mouth off. I'm not one to gossip so let's get you upstairs and settled in shall we?" To say the least Christine was disappointed at the change of subject. She had wanted to know more of the man she would be working for. The walk upstairs was slightly frustrating for her as well, having not even heard from or seen the man himself. It was normal for her to be curious. Her curiosity had often gotten the best of her, and she would remiss to say it hadn't gotten her into some trouble in the past. She could only hope she wouldn't make the same mistake this time.


	5. Chapter V

_Author's Note_ : As promised, another chapter! I realize that for some of you the names may seem alittle odd but I have something planned for them. In addition I chose the name Iago from Shakespeare's, _Othello_. It's one of my favorites of his and despite being the villain of the story, Iago has always been my favorite character in it. He's very complex and I've always believed there's a lot more to antagonists than them just being bad. In addition I read a book a while ago that told a backstory for Iago and I very much enjoyed it. If any of you are interested, it's called _I,_ _Iago_ and it's by Nicole Galland. Also, I realize that it's strange for Christine to be a governess for a housekeeper's children but I did this to create some more back story for our mysterious Erik character. And of course if you have any questions, suggestions, or notice anything please let me know. I don't have a beta reader or anything so all corrections will have been made by me; however if there's anyone who would like to do that, please let me know!

Child of Music and Dreams: Well I would hate to give anything away but...yes!

Happy reading all!

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It was the next day that Christine had the pleasure of being introduced to her pupils. Children had always been a love of hers and she had wanted to work with them for a long while. It had just been difficult for her to do anything outside of the house due to her father. And now, well now Christine would be working with two children and she very much wanted them to like her and she would only have one chance to give a first impression.

"Miss Daaé, I would like to introduce you to my Children. This here, is Meg, she is my oldest. She's 20 and I'm training her to take over for me. She's not exactly my daughter, she's from her father's first wife but she's mine all the same." Christine turned to Mrs. Giry to see her presenting a young blonde haired woman.

"Hello miss, it's a pleasure to meet you," the young woman greeted Christine. "I've been so very excited to meet you, it will be nice to have someone my own age around he-" She was cut off by a firm look from her mother but Christine smiled.

"No Mrs. Giry, it's alright. You're right, it will be nice to have someone my own age here. And please, call me Christine. After all, I think we're going to be good friends."

"Then you must call me Meg, Miss Da- I mean Christine." They shared a smile before Christine's attention was drawn to a small shuffling in the corner of her eye. To her surprise two younger children crawled out from underneath a nearby table.

"Oh hello there!" They ran quickly behind their mother's skirts and Christine noted that perhaps Mrs. Giry wasn't as old as she had previously thought. Not when she had children that looked so young.

"Ah here they are! Don't be shy children," she ushered them towards Christine before continuing. "This is Miss Christine Daaé, She is to be your governess." Christine could see the apprehension in the children's eyes and understood it well. It could, of course, be overwhelming to have someone new come into your life and for you to be expected to automatically trust them. She would just have to show them they shouldn't be afraid of her. She could see herself in the children, young, naive, and innocent. The girl, Victoria, looked like the older of the two. She had curly brown hair and large brown eyes, something Christine recognized from her own childhood photographs. It was clear the girl would one day be a great beauty. She turned her attention to the small boy next. He had brown hair, like his sister, and the most beautiful hazel eyes adorned with glasses. He looked as though he were probably small for his, however old he was, but she was sure he made up for it in smarts.

"Mrs. Giry? Would it be alright if I spent some time alone with them? I'd like to get to know them a bit and let them get to know me." She earned a nod of assent and watched the woman leave the room.

"It was so very nice to meet you Christine. I do hope we can meet again soon," Meg said before heading for the door.

"Of course Meg, I would like that very much." Christine smiled and turned back to the two smaller persons in front of her. Christine had suggested to Mrs. Giry they be settled in the library because of how spacious it was and the view of the garden it provided. She could see now, however that it was a place the children felt comfortable in and knew she'd made the right choice.

She knelt down and lowered herself into a sitting position on the floor, perhaps not ladylike but children often cared little for propriety. They looked quite nervous and Christine hoped she could remedy that quickly.

"So you must be Victoria and Iago. It's a pleasure to meet you, I am Christine Daaé, your governess. I know your mother told you I would be coming to teach you but first I would like to get to know you. Is that alright?" She put on her sweetest smile, hoping to convey a sense of comfort to them. To her surprise it was the girl who spoke.

"Yes Miss Daaé, I'm Victoria and I'm 1o. Iago is 7 but very shy so you won't get much out of him. He doesn't talk much to those he doesn't know. I'm not shy at all though. Mama says you're from France. I can tell because you sound different from us." This girl certainly enjoyed talking, a sure sign she was intelligent. She would be quite a handful but Christine wouldn't complain about that.

"Well, you're right I do sound different. I was born and grew up in France so my english will sound strange at time compared to yours. But when I was 9 I began to teach myself english by reading books and listening to english travelers at the market," Christine explained. And at this she earned an astonished look from Victoria.

"You taught yourself english? And Miss Daaé, you'll be teaching us french won't you?"

"Of course, French, literature, arts, all sorts of things."

"Oh Miss Daaé I am very excited," the girl yelled as she jumped. She would prove to be an apt pupil and someday, Christine thought she would have a mind that overrode her beauty. The boy on the other hand had stayed silent, only throwing quick glances Christine's way.

"Iago?" He looked up. "Do you like to read," she asked.

Victoria cut in, "He can't read, but he likes it when mama reads stories." Seven years old and unable to read, well Christine would quickly remedy that.

"Would you like me to read you a story? Perhaps one with sword fights and a brave hero to the rescue?" And finally at this Christine was granted a vicious nod and a widening of the young boys eyes. She had gotten his attention.

"Well then, come over I know the perfect one." She lifted herself to search the shelves for the title. "Aha! Here we are, _The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood._ " And with that she settled herself back on the floor, only to be joined by both children at her side. Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult after all. She knew Victoria was already quite comfortable with her, and it seemed Iago was as well. What she didn't notice however was a mother standing in the hallway, smiling at the prospect of change coming to the house.


	6. Chapter VI

******_Author's Note:_** **So I wrote several different versions of this chapter before finally choosing this one. You've all been waiting for this one I think, so here it is. I'll probably post the other versions separately, at a later time. Although this story is heavily inspired by Jane Eyre, I wanted to set it apart and so I decided not to use Jane and Rochester's meeting. Although I do have to say it's one of my favorite character meetings. But Jane Eyre is probably my favorite book. I enjoy reading and I read quite often but I have yet to read a book that reaches me as Jane Eyre does. And there's always the statement, "the book was better than the movie," but in this case it's true. At least that's what I've always thought, and with every film version. They all leave out a scene in which Rochester disguises himself as a gypsy and it's one of my favorite parts of the book. Tragic.**

 **Woland666: You know I really wanted him to but I just couldn't figure out how to make it work with the story. I'm planning on writing another story where he does have a full mask. I know there are several version where he has a full mask, but I just couldn't work it in. And thanks! I wanted to make Christine more mature and bolder but to still have that kindess and innocence that makes her who she is. I feel like she's often written too childlike for how she would really be.**

 **Masked Man 2: I'm amazed, I feel as though no one has read it and it's such a wonderful book. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and that you like the name I chose. I couldn't help myself, I had to name him Iago! I don't want to say that he's a misunderstood character in Othello but I think there's a lot more to him than what he's given credit for. I'm so honored, this is all so kind! I'm really glad that Christine is coming off the way I planned her to, I wasn't sure how well it would play out. And there's no need to apologize! I'm just thankful so many people are enjoying it!**

 **Everyonedeserveslove: Yay! I love that you love it! I'm going to attempt to make Erik as much as Mr. Rochester as I can. Call me a romantic, but I love how dark and brooding he is. He is the quintessential byronic hero. To me he is gothic romance. I know it's so typical but I can't help it. I read Jane Eyre for the first time, when I was a freshman in high school and I can remember I stayed up all night to finish it. I was originally going to make the kids Erik's but I though against it because come on, it's so strangely romantic to think of Christine as the first woman for him. No need to worry! I'll be continuing all the way to the end.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Your support is so wonderful! And of course, if you notice anything, have any questions, or have suggestions, please let me know!**

* * *

It was the first crash of lightening that woke her, jolting her from a perfectly restful sleep. Christine had never been privy to storms, of that she was certain. The thunder and lightening usually brought her a sense of foreboding, and tonight she felt particularly unsettled. This was her first storm in her this new place. Although she had been at Farleigh House for nearly a month, she had not yet begun to feel at home. As a child she had always run to her parents for comfort against the raging thunder outside, of course she couldn't do that now. It had been her mother who would sing her soft songs to her father's violin playing. They made quite the pair creating music while calming their frightened daughter. All she had now were fond memories of those times.

Sitting up from bed she jumped again at another round of thunder and lightening. She quickly put on her dressing robe and exited the room. It was probably best for her to stay in her room but there was simply no way she would be able to fall asleep. And staying cooped up in her room would not help her current state. Perhaps she would find some solace with a cup of tea in the drawing room.

"Ah!" Yet another crash caused her to run down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Oh goodness Christine you really should have thought this through and brought a light . Of course you are far too frightful for that! You'll be lost in the dark now." She reached her hands forward to prevent from any unnecessary injuries. Blindly feeling her way through the darkened kitchen she moved forward before abruptly bumping into and object. She pushed forward again, this time slightly to the side and found it again.

"Are you in the habit of assaulting men and raiding their kitchens," asked the object. She gasped and jumped back into a cupboard. "When I came down here tonight I certainly did not expect to be handled in such a way", the voice said again before the room was flooded with light. It seemed not only could the object speak but could move as well and when Christine looked up she found it wasn't an object at all. It was a man! He was staring down at her with a blank expression on his. Or at least what she could see of his face. She let another gasp, this one at the mask that obscured the right half of his face. What a strange thing for a man to do. She had heard from the others in the house that he was a mysterious man, some even called him eccentric. But she had not in the least been expecting this. She continued to stare at him, noticing in particular his piercing yellow eyes. Christine couldn't remember ever having seen a pair of yellow eyes on a person.

"If you're going to continues to stare, at least try to be discreet about it. Otherwise I should think I will have to charge you for it." His voice darkened and eyes narrowed at the last phrase before he extended a hand to help Christine up. She quickly accepted and stood up, coming face to face with this very strange man. True Christine was not one to be so openly rude but she was so shocked from being startled and this man's mask that she couldn't help it. It was mostly the shock of finding someone, in what she thought was an empty room, that had startled her the most. Although the deep gaze of this man was not helping her find her words.

"I'll ask you again miss. Is it often that you come down in the dead of night to raid my kitchen?" She opened her mouth several times to answer before he began again.

"And who are you anyhow. Mrs. Giry isn't in the habit of inviting strangers to stay overnight. And if she is, I'll do well to correct that." She jumped on that. If there was one thing she wanted right now, it was not for Mrs. Giry to go down for her indiscretion.

"No si-"

"Ah she speaks! And I was beginning to think you had no tongue." Although his voice held a tone of humor, his eyes remained cold. It was Christine's turn to narrow her eyes now. Whether this was his kitchen or not, she would not be spoken to as a child.

" _No sir_. I am Christine Daaé, I was hired to be governess for Mrs. Giry's children." _My god if this man doesn't have the most vicious stare I've ever seen,_ she thought to herself.

"The man of this house hired you?" He seemed surprised by that and for life of her Christine didn't know why.

"Well I don't believe Mrs. Giry would hire me without the consent of her employer," she shot back.

"I simply instructed her to find a suitable instructor for her children. I did not direct her to hire you necessarily." Well if he was to act this way then so would she.

"And who are you to talk to me in such a way?" She straightened her shoulders and stood tall. But when she lifted her head to add more she noticed what appeared to be a small smirk appear on the man's face.

"Who am I? My dear," he paused and his smirk grew, "I am Erik Destler." In that moment Christine could feel the color drain from her face. " When I said my kitchen, I was not merely stating that I simply work in the kitchen. No, no Miss Daaé, I own this kitchen as well as the rest of this house. And do close you mouth please, it's not becoming." _Oh god, Christine, you've done this time._

"Oh-h Sir. Please, I meant no offens-"

"No of course not. You only came down to raid my stores-" She most certainly did not.

"Excuse me sir but I most certainly did not come down to raid anything. I came down for some tea, I'm not partial to storms." He quirked his visible eyebrow at this and made a "hmph" sound. Christine wasn't sure if she liked this mysterious man very much. Though she had only just met him, he rubbed her the wrong way. But there was just something that drew her to him, and it wasn't just as to why he wore a mask. Although she was dying to know why anyone would choose to wear a mask outside of the appropriate setting. She could easily picture him as the villain in a some dramatic opera, though she would never say it.

Outside the storm still raged, but Christine felt something much more powerful at play inside. She would resolve to learn more about her employer.

"It's late Miss Daaé, go to sleep."

She raised an arm to gesture to the storm outside. "As much as I would love to sleep through the night, I cannot. As I said, I'm not privy to storms."

"Very well Miss Daaé. Have a pleasant night then, I will take my leave." He rose to his full height and nodded his head to her before making for the door. He paused, tapping a hand on the door frame, "Goodnight Miss Daaé." And with that he left Christine standing alone in the kitchen.

It wasn't until after he'd left that she muttered a bewildered, "Goodnight sir," and shook her head. "How _very_ odd, how very odd indeed."


	7. Chapter VII

****

_Author's Note:_ Here we are again, Chapter 7 now. I'm trying not to move quickly with the characters. I want to take time for them to develop as well as their relationships. I love _Jane Eyre_ very dearly but I've always been a little confused about how very quickly the nature of their relationship changes. But I suppose when you're Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester time is of no consequence to your relationship. But let's be real, Rochester knew what he was doing, sly little bastard. You don't just dress as a gypsy unless you want to see how the woman you care for feels. But between the choice of Blanche Ingram and Jane Eyre, I'd likely follow in his steps. As with Christine, between her choice of Raoul and Erik, who wouldn't chose the latter. Oh and don't think I've forgotten about Raoul. It won't be long until he joins us. So many wonderful characters to write in! Oh and for those of you who share my affinity for _Jane Eyre,_ if you haven't read it, I recommend _The Wide Sargasso Sea._ It's essentially about Bertha Mason's downward spiral and basically paints Rochester as her antagonist. But it's wonderful and gives fantastic insight on characters in _Jane Eyre_. In addition, I'm planning some new stories and I have one in the works inspired by the book and movie _Pay it Forward_ with Kevin Spacey and Helen Hunt. I also have a few short stories I've written that I'll be posting soon. Best!

Masked Man 2: And how fantastic the classic horse meeting is! I wrote one for them but I chose to use that last one. I do want this story to really be influenced by Jane Eyre but I don't want it to be the same. I think while there are some parallels between the stories, they have very different dynamics. I mean Erik essentially kills people to get Christine, not to mention holding her _fiancé_ hostage. Ha! I want her to seem that way. Well for now at least. I think it will give her a better character development. I'm very excited to write her changes as well as Erik's. But not to worry, his sass factor will remain intact.

Child of Music and Dream's: Aha! If only I could say. I don't want to reveal too much before anything really happens, but I will say this. I'm wanting to make it so that Christine is the first woman for Erik, and you can interpret that as you like, I will explain further down the line. But I think it's much more romantic that way, for her to be his first... well everything.

Lucyole: Thank you! I like a bit of humor in my writing, of course I'll be posting as quickly as I can!

And of course, if you notice anything, have any questions, or have suggestions, please let me know!

* * *

It was several days before she saw or heard from Mr. Destler. He was a strange man, she could have told anyone that without having even spoken to him. She wasn't one to be quick to judgements and she very often found she enjoyed those she came in contact with. But after such a short and strange meeting she wasn't sure she liked her employer very much. She would need to do more than run into him in the kitchen to know that.

"Miss Daaé?," Victoria broke her thoughts. She had been out of sorts since the night before but she could not use it as an excuse to miss the children's lessons for the day. It was still too early in her employment there.

"I apologize Victoria, what was that?" The young girl was eager to learn, as was her brother. Both were very bright and had proved to be excellent pupils in the short time they had been working with Christine. But where Victoria was confident and boisterous, Iago was afraid and shy. They were almost complete opposites but they made quite a pair. They caused minimal trouble around the house and even offered to assist sometimes.

"May I play the piano Miss Daaé?" She gestured to the grand piano in the corner of the large sitting room and Christine nodded. The girl had completed her work, why not let her enjoy herself for a bit?

Christine turned her attention to the window, noticing the rain still falling outside. At least the thunder and lightening that kept her awake the previous night had ceased. It was a steady rainfall now, almost soothing with its constant tapping on the glass. This was weather she could enjoy. While she lived for warmth and the sun hitting her skin, there was something about the rain she had always loved. True, it kept her confined indoors but it was the ideal time for fires and cozy talks in the dead of night. As a child she would curl up with books on days like this, but once her mother had died, well those had been the most difficult days. But she was a independent woman now, happy and on her to finding herself. No need to dwell in unhappy

In the back she could hear Victoria painfully making her way through a piece while Iago played with a set of model soldiers.

"She is rather terrible is she not?" Christine yelped at a voice behind her.

"Oh I'm sorry dear! I didn't mean to frighten," Christine recognized it to be Mrs. Giry and smiled.

"No need to worry, was simply lost in thought. But she isn't completely beyond hope, she just need practice." Pessimism was not a trait Christine held. Her father and Sarah had often teased her about how optimistic she was. She sometimes feared she was overly optimistic.

"Well Mr. Destler certainly thinks she holds some promise. He's the one who first showed how to play the piano." Christine quirked an eyebrow, she was… surprised by this.

"Is he a very musical man," she asked the woman beside her. Mrs. Giry smiled knowingly, and nodded.

"Very Miss Daaé. He's a great many things, musician, architect, artist. He is many things Miss Daaé," the woman's voice fell near the end. It was as if she knew something, something she left out of the statement. But before Christine could respond, she brightened, "Oh, he arrived late sometime yesterday!"

"Did he?" Christine feigned innocence but she knew better.

"Yes," Mrs. Giry nodded, "he often arrives late in the night. He prefers coming home unannounced, not one for lots of noise about it. But that's why I came here dear. Mr. Destler would like to speak with you in the Red Room." Ah the Red Room. She had only been in one other time and it was exactly as she had expected, red.

"Will the children be alright for a bit while I'm gone?"

"Of course Christine, they're very much preoccupied." Christine nodded and headed down the hall.

It surprised her that he would ask for her. After the strange way they encountered each other in the kitchen she hadn't expected him to want anything to do with her. She was working in a position that required them to come into contact with one another, and really that didn't bother her in the least.

Upon reaching the Red Room Christine raised a hand to knock-

"Don't bother Miss Daaé, you may come in."

"Mrs. Giry said you would like to speak with me sir," she resolved to attempt eye contact for as long as possible but his stare proved to win out. He appeared more menacing now than before. His white mask stood out, stark against his black attire and the red walls of the room. As she entered the room his eyes followed her, almost as though he were stalking her every move.

"Sit," he instructed, gesturing to a nearby seat. "I believe we may have got off on the wrong foot at our last meeting. I wish to rectify that." _Surprising indeed._

"Very well, sir." She sat, "How would you like to do that."

"Well I believe the last time met you were going through my kitchen quite late in the night. No?" He smirked at this, she most certainly did not. "No matter, we'll let it slide this time shall we?" She nodded and quirked an eyebrow.

"Tell me Miss Daaé, you're from France, but your name is not french?" This was what he wanted to begin with? Her family's origins?

"Yes, my father is Swedish and my mother was French, they-"

"Was?" Christine was surprised to find he actually appeared interested.

"Yes, sir. She died when I was seven. She had been sick for some time before that, so it was not a surprise when she went. It was a long time ago." She offered a sad smile but did not meet his eyes, while he cleared his throat as a sign of discomfort. They stayed in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes before either made a move to speak.

"... An- and you sir? Are you fr-," she began before he abruptly cut her off, suddenly stern.

"We will not speak of my history. You are not to ask of it is that understood Miss Daaé?" His gaze visibly darkened and he held his fists so tight, they turned white. And just as quickly as his temper flared, he was calm again. "Our dear Mrs. Giry tells me you enjoy music, and literature, and art among other things," he waved a hand in dismissal of the last part.

"Yes sir," she nodded, though still confused over his mercurial temperament, she remained wary. "I am… interested in those subjects," she finished lamely before beginning again. "That is to say, I have taken a great interest in these areas, particularly music. My mother was the one… well she instilled a great love of music in me, among other things." This time her eyes rose to meet his and she found he had a look of thoughtful confusion. It was almost as if he were reassessing his original thoughts of her.

"Sir?" She was slightly worried to alone in a room with a man she did not know and to be honest was slightly frightened of. His eyes were constantly cold and seemed to follow her every move. Christine attempted to do the same to him and this time she held it, attempting to examine him.

" _Miss_ Daaé," his tone was cold and collected once again and she steeled herself for his next words. "Do you often find it difficult to look into the eyes of those you are speaking with, or is it only when you are in my presence?" He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly expecting a response.

"I- no… sir," Christine paused to collect herself before responding with something she might regret. "No sir, I am simply unfamiliar with being in the company of others, particularly men. You sir, are no exception." _Strong. You must show him strength and not falter,_ she thought to herself.

"A lie Miss Daaé, like most women, you do quite well with weaving tales. Tell me Miss Daaé, your gaze is… trying to be direct. Do you think me handsome Miss Daaé?" He waved a hand for flourish and sat back with a smug look of satisfaction. Directness had not always been one of Christine's strong suites but she believed in her honest heart and tongue. They had done her well before.

"No sir."

"No? Ha! Miss Daaé, you are quite a different one." She once again did not meet his eyes.

"I am simply honest sir as I am true to myself. You asked and I answered, nothing more." She raised her chin as if to show she could not be beat so easily. He still held a look of mischief, to her great surprise even a small smile. However, just as quickly as it arrived, it left.

"You should get back to the children Miss Daaé. They have grown quite a bit under your care and Mrs. Giry speaks highly of you. Do not prove her wrong." He stood suddenly and she followed suit, watching him.

"I wish you a good day Miss Daaé," he nodded and left.

To be sure Christine decided she did not like him. He was cold and guarded, traits she did not find attractive in a friend or companion. With this final thought she left to return to the children, all the while thinking of the man she knew and Mr. Erik Destler.


	8. Chapter VIII

****_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the delay folks! I started a new job and it's been crazy. But excuses, excuses. This isn't really a filler chapter because I wanted to set up some context for upcoming events. I'm rushing to write this right now so I apologize for any grammar errors here. I'm just about to leave for the airport but I wanted to post before I left. In addition I didn't proofread the chapter yet so if you notice any mistakes please let me know and I'll correct them as soon as I can. Which will probably be in two weeks since I'll be away from home until the 5th of July. I'll try if I can to update but no promises. As always, let me know if you notice anything, have any questions, or have any suggestions!  
 **Best!**

* * *

Though she did not see Mr. Destler, he had a knack for making himself known. During several lunches and breakfasts he could be heard running scales on the piano or playing a tune, only to burst into a seemingly uncontrollable rage. Christine held her tongue through most of these occurrences but found on this day she could not.

She heard the lid of the piano slam shut followed by his office and the front door. His wild ramblings began not long after and from the window he could be seen mounting his horse. Victoria ran to the window to observe this, only to be scolded by both her mother and Meg.

"He is very changeful and abrupt," she took a bite of her bread, sighing as she did so.

Mrs. Giry gave a short laugh before shaking her head. "I should say so Miss Daaé. We're accustomed to his manner, as unpredictable as it is. There must be allowances considering his past…" She paused, forming a small "o" shape with her mouth. "Well I suppose that's not for me to discuss. Come now! Let us finish our lunch so you can return the children to their studies."

There was far too much secrecy regarding the man, too much hush about him. And Christine did not like this. She would obey and stand quietly by for now, but not forever. Plastering a smile on her face she nodded and did as Mrs. Giry suggested. But not before offering one last glance back at the window.

-0-

True to his word, Christine's father wrote her nearly every week. She however had written a total of two times, needless to say that she was not the best at written communication. She had always thought it fell short in showing the emotion and tone of people's voices. Nonetheless she conveyed all that she could to him. She talked of the children and how much she enjoyed teaching them, she told him about Meg and how she had found a close confidant in her and her mother. She was not however, able to adequately describe her employer, Erik Destler. How could she tell him how very little she knew of him and how very much she disliked him.

"Christine!" She looked up from her current letter to see Meg skipping through the doorway. In times like these it was clear to Christine how much freer the girl was than her.

Setting aside her paper she smiled, "And what has you so excited today?" A blush was evidence enough that she had something to share.

"Christine, I'll simply burst if I tell no one and I will not tell mama yet. Can I confide in you about something?

She nodded but paused. "Something or someone Meg?"

Her blush darkened and she hid her eyes from Christine's. "By her own admittance! Well now Meg, my dear friend you must tell me." Christine was not often one for gossip but when it concerned someone so near to her, she simply had no choice to involve herself.

"There is a man. A somewhat wealthy man at that," her smile widened. "Of course I don't believe there's chance anything could come of it. I'm not so naive to think we'll be married tomorrow, but it is a thought to be so out of character." She threw her head back laughing, and Christine couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how free Meg seemed. How absolutely at ease she was with herself and her circumstance. She longed to feel that sort of joy at the notion of caring for another. She wouldn't reveal such things, not any time soon and certainly not to Meg. So she simply smiled.

"Pray tell Meg, what is this dashing man's name?" She quirked an eyebrow and smiled mischievously.

"Philippe is his given name, or rather one of them. They have so many these noble men do. And his brother Christine! You may take a liking to him my friend. His name is Raou-"

Had Meg finished her thought, she may have been more invested in the conversation. However she was unable to, interrupted by her own mother.

"Enough chit chat for tonight girls. Meg I'll require your help in the dining room."

"Of course mama. I'll be right in." Both ladies watched as Mrs. Giry exited the room, she certainly knew how to interrupt some good girl time.

"Meg, before you go, may I ask you something?" Meg had already stood and made her way towards the door but made her way back to Christine to respond.

"Do you know…" She sighed, "do you know why Mr. Destler wears a mask? I can't get any of the other staff to say a word on it."

Any color that previously occupied Meg's cheeks was drained instantly. She grew pale, almost sickly.

"Are you alright Meg?"

"Y-yes," she nodded hesitantly. "I'm fine Christine, but I'm sorry, I can't answer your question." Christine had never seen her friend so frightened.

Meg quickly moved for the door but stopped to make one last statement. "And Christine? I wouldn't ask him or mention it at all. He isn't keen on it being pointed out." With that she fled the room, leaving Christine in an uncomfortable silence. She stood to go and dress for dinner, still

She wasn't insensitive and didn't in any way want to offend anyone. Certainly not her employer. And if her friend's reaction was this severe simply from asking a simple question, she would remember to not mention the mask. Or his other odd attributes. It wasn't that they were bad, or that he wasn't handsome… in his own way. He was, goodness he was, but there was no chance of her admitting that to him. Or anyone else for that matter. Beauty had little influence on her feelings when he was so indescribably difficult to handle. So perhaps she had not been quite so truthful when he had asked of she thought he was handsome. But how could she have said yes witho-

The distinct sound of crashing glass tore Christine from any thoughts on the matter. Thinking one of the children may have harmed themselves she rushed down the hall. With the dining room on the other side of the house it would have been almost impossible for anyone to hear the sound as clearly as she had. And children were often so ignorant to the danger of glass or really anything they could hurt themselves on. She wanted to be sure one of them hadn't cut open a vein in an attempt to pick up the shards.

But to Christine's great surprise, the sight that greeted her was indeed not the one she had expected. Not in the least.


	9. Chapter IX

_Author's Note_ : So it's been a minute. I got back from Japan earlier this month but my sleep cycle just hasn't gotten back on track and so I've been at work or sleeping. Life is beautiful. But I digress, I'm here now we have chapter nine. So this one was a little more difficult for me but I believe I made it through successfully. The next chapter is going to seem similar to this chapter but it's not. I'm trying to integrate more of Christine's past and her experiences that have formed her, so you can get a better sense of my characterization of her. And more from Erik will come but I want to let you really get to know Christine before I go in depth with other characters. As always, let me know if you notice anything; have any questions, comments, or concerns!

* * *

There was _so_ _much_ blood. Christine nearly had to grasp the door frame to keep from falling over at the sight. Had the situation not seemed so dire, she may have done just that. Glass littered the floor, and she choked back a sob at the thought of what could have happened. Bringing her eyes to see the damage Mr. Destler had brought to himself, another sob escaped and this one he heard.

At hearing her, his eyes flew up to meet hers, effectively showing her something he had never wished to show anyone. If she had thought she was going to fall over before, she really believed she would lose consciousness now. He _did not_ have his mask on. She only saw for a second before his hand swiftly covered it. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to break the tension that was building, but he bounded across the room to silence. _With his non-bloody hand_ , she vaguely noted. Her mind hadn't even had time to registered that she had seen him unmasked, he was so quick- and there was still blood dripping from his right hand.

His voice was low and grated when he did finally speak and his eyes gazed pointedly at her, as if they could speak for themselves. " _If_ I remove my hand, you will not scream. _Do you understand?_ " Christine answered with a firm nod, her eyes wide and mind still reeling. But as promised, he removed his hand, only to shove her into the room shut the door behind her. She only knew he was finished when she heard the obvious sound of the door being locked.

Her eyes turned to the floor to see the trail of blood he had left when he went behind her. For a moment everything around her disappeared and she could only see her father. She could see him after her mother died, he'd often been prone to fits of depression and rage. He would throw glasses and plates, anything he could get his hands on. When she was younger, Christine would cower in the corner, afraid to step in but not wanting to him alone with himself.

" _Papa please! Stop! Please!" She had pleaded for what seemed like hours but he wouldn't stop. She couldn't escape the sound sounds of crying, hers or her father's she couldn't tell. His moans were far more painful to hear than her own. He did nothing but scream out his wife's name and dry until his throat ran dry and raw. Eventually he fell to the floor shaking and whimpering, having nothing left in him but the sadness and grief of his loss._

She unexpectedly returned to the present, being reminded of her current situation by a cold hand grabbing hers. Christine peered up and saw the reason she came in the first place. _Mr. Destler_ needed _her help._ She could see it in his hands, the way they shook. His eyes were angry and his face bloody. He was still covering half of his face and from the looks of it, the hand he held against it was still bleeding heavily. Although she was worried that a sudden movement would have him at her throat, she turned her head and eyed a several towels near his was wash table. She moved her eyes back to him, of course his hadn't moved from her.

And ever so slowly, she took a step toward the table, then another, and another.

" _What_ do you think you're doing?" She turned back then grabbed one towel and moved back to him, but not before picking up his mask from the bed. She handed it to him and noticed a crack in his cold expression, almost as though he were surprised. No time to think of it now.

He moved to put his mask on but she jumped on him. "No!" His gaze hardened again and he stared at her. "I mean, no don't. Not yet at least. You...you can't put it on without, um… without wiping the blood off." Christine twiddled her thumbs and trailed off at the end of her statement. To her great surprise though, he complied, turning away to clear as much of the blood as he could before replacing his mask.

"Thank you Miss Daae, for entering without permission, now if you would please _lea-"_

"If you please sir, I will not leave. While I do not know what happened to cause all this, I do know that you're hand is bleeding heavily. And if you leave it untreated it has the potential to become infected."

"I have the capacity to take care of it myself." If looks had the power of words, Christine would be inching her way towards the door but she held firm. She'd seen the blood and knew the cut would be difficult for him to deal with on his own.

"Sir, I'm sure you able to do so but that cut looks deep." He moved to interrupt her but she stopped him. " _Please_ , I know how to take care of injuries like that so they stay clean. Let me help you." For those who knew Christine, there were a great many things that could be said about her. She was kind, humble, bright, and she was compassionate. She never wanted to see anyone in pain or to suffer, even from their own mistakes. She was by all accounts an angel to those in need of her. And she would help Mr. Destler now, even if he did not wish it.


	10. Chapter X

_Author's Note_ : Hello dear readers! We've reached the double digits in chapters. I've always felt it takes a some time before a story really finds itself and becomes interesting. Even in _Jane Eyre_ I have difficulty reading the first several chapters and not just skipping to Jane leaving Lowood and arriving at Thornfield. I apologize for any errors you may notice in reading, it's always difficult to edit your own writing. There are some characters I have left out of recent chapters but fear not they'll soon be back. I've been reading and doing a lot of research on Lord Byron, _Jane Eyre_ , Othello, gothic fiction, Victorian England, and a number of other topics relating to the story and time period. I realize I told you this would be heavily inspired by _Jane Eyre_ and that still has not changed; however I will be bringing in events in history and borrowing lives of individuals in history.  
Of course I'm sure you may have noticed that, while heavily influenced by _Jane Eyre_ there are a number of things I've chosen to alter greatly. Just a few: Erik has no children by an opera dancer, though that would have fit in very well; Christine is not an orphan, something I chose to change from Leroux's story and all those following it; and Erik is not married. For those of you who have not read _Jane Eyre_ don't worry, this is just an explanation of my writing choices. I think it's obvious to all those who have read it that the fire in Rochester's room marks a change in his and Jane's relationship. I wanted to have that, but since there's no Bertha I couldn't very well have fires spontaneously appearing. So, I wanted to have that same feeling created in a way that would match the storyline. Perhaps it's just me but I noticed that until Rochester really tells Jane how he feels about her, he tries so very hard to hide them behind indifference and friendship. I'm striving to do so with Erik as well. With Christine he will soften and become more amicable but keep up that fabulous personality we love and know so well. I will try my best to keep my characterization of him in those lines. It's not very difficult to see similarities between Rochester and Erik. I think if Gaston Leroux's _Phantom of the Opera_ had been a requited love story between Christine and Erik we would have seen those similarities more clearly.  
I've also lapsed in responding to you, so here we go.

 **Masked Man 2** : Don't worry, they'll both be lovesick puppies all in good time. And of course you're right, he hasn't exactly been a gentleman. But we wouldn't want them to come together too quickly. Where's the fun in that? And we all know Erik falls for Christine faster than she would fall for him, it's just how their story goes. I'm so glad all of my _Jane Eyre_ references are being noticed! Thank you so much! you are too kind, really. I do have to agree with you on Rochester's character in _Wide Sargasso Sea_. I understand what Rhys was doing but I'm not sure I agree with her characterization of him at all. Of course in _Jane Eyre_ Rochester does discuss the recklessness and mistakes of his youth. What I like about _Wide Sargasso Sea_ is that it gives us more on Bertha Antoinetta Mason or Antoinette Cosway (in WSS). What I think Rhys really missed was the consequences the marriage had on both Rochester and Bertha. It's a deeper analysis of her character to show that every action we take influences to lives of others. And that's really what I like about it. But again I agree with you on the Rochester piece.  
And don't worry, it certainly isn't the first time Erik has broken something and it won't be the last.

 **Everyonedeserveslove** : Of course I had to include that! The line fit too well with both men. And what an opportunity indeed. It may be making appearances through out the story so be on the lookout.

Alright everyone, sorry for the long introduction but I'd be remiss if I didn't explain some things. As per usual, if you notice anything; have any questions, concerns, or suggestions; or just want to comment on something, please let me know. I do so enjoy hearing from you. And now finally chapter 10. Here we go!

* * *

Before the arrival of Christine Daae at his home, Erik Destler could determine how each day would begin and end. Those who were under his employ were of course terrified of him but they kept quiet and out of his way. He didn't want to have to deal with any of them any more than necessary, not when all they were going to do was cower or stare blatantly at him. He supposed he should have been used to that now, after years of men doing worse than that to him. He had taken beatings but it never ceased to surprise him even the slightest bit that human beings didn't have the decency to not stare. It wasn't as though they knew what he hid, but his own paranoia caused thoughts of them screaming at just the sight of him even with the mask. Few had even seen what lay beneath it and now due to his own foolishness and self-loathing, Christine Daae had seen it. _It_ , his face or what could only be called an excuse for one. His twisted, grotesque flesh, that had been the cause of his entire tortured life: and she had _seen_ it.

It had been his own fault of course. Erik knew no better torture than forcing himself to stare at the horror his own mother couldn't bare to look at. He'd been doing just that when his demons grabbed hold of him, forcing every horrid thought to seem a reality. Putting his fist through the glass seemed the only viable option. He hardly registered the feeling of pain as each blow caused his reflection to become more distorted than before. He may have ended up trying more had she not burst through the door when she did. In truth he was disturbed that he hadn't heard her the moment she'd entered. No one had ever startled him that way before. But he knew the moment he looked up he'd made a terrible mistake and he could see in her eyes that she had as well. His movements in the moments after that were practiced and calculated. Of course Erik didn't want her to see anymore than she already had. He expected she was traumatized enough as it was.

But then she did something that had surprised him beyond anything he had ever. She _helped_ him. And more than that she talked back to him, something he hoped did not become a habit among the others in his house. It wasn't that which had confused him the most, but that she had done it because she could. That confused him most of all.

"Let me help you." Erik simply stared at her in response. He did not want her help so she could take it and-

"You do not like me and that is fine." She moved back a step and raised her hands to show she would not interfere, "But however much you wish to deny it, you are in need of assistance." He reluctantly moved his eyes down to his wounded hand and almost reeled at the sight of it. It looked worse than it probably was but that didn't make it any better. The girl was right, he required assistance but she was wrong if she thought he would give up willingly.

"Very well," he growled. "You may do as much…," he paused to look her up and down, "as much as you can." More than likely the girl was excited to be inflicting more pain on him. _Yes_ that had to be it, make him suffer for having to live with the memory of seeing his face.

He felt her hand on his arm, saw the towel in her other, and nodded in response to her unspoken question. She promptly grabbed the towel and walked back to the wash table. He'd broken the mirror there some time ago and was glad for a break from her questioning eyes. She returned to the bed, having brought over basin and a spare towel. Erik's hoped his cold stare was enough to relay his annoyance. He knew one look and she'd understood, and set to work.

The two sat in silence for several moments with Erik thrumming his fingers in an attempt to make the moments move quicker.

"I wasn't-", his focus snapped to her and she drew back, clearly startled. She cleared audibly her throat. "I wasn't going to scream sir," she spit out, soaking the towel in the basin. Her eyes stayed locked on clearing as much blood as possible.

" _When?_

"Before, when you told me not to." Erik grunted in response. "Honestly Mr. Destler I'm not sure why you thought I would. Women do see more blood than men." Such a thing to say! And from Miss Christine Daae no less. He didn't know many women, any women, but he could only assume such a thing was not something that was discussed. But her tone indicated humor? No one had ever joked with him. In all honesty his jokes would more than likely send her running for the hills. Daring a peek he could see she did indeed have a very smug look of satisfaction on her face.

She continued, "I was _going_ to ask if you were all right. Really, there was quite a bit of blood and I couldn't see where you'd… hurt yourself." He simply offered a mirthless laugh before responding.

"So that's it." He ground his teeth at his own thoughts. "You came running in here to see if the monster bled? Well Miss Daae are you _pleased?_ " He tore his arm away and let a sharp cry at the stabbing pain it caused. To her credit Christine appeared confused and somewhat frightened at his sudden burst of anger. Her eyes wide, but with something that couldn't be boiled down to simply fear. She appeared concerned and not for her just her own safety. But for his as well.

Erik felt a strange sensation wash over at him at the sight before him. Perhaps it was the way the evening light hit her in precisely the right way, forcing every flawless feature further into his mind. She was by definition beauty and grace. Of course he had noticed that from the moment he'd met her. Christine was graceful in the textbook sense of the word but he could feel it in her every move. And now he knew she was kind, something he had never experienced in another human being before. Not without cash or threats, although he supposed that didn't count. Here she sat before him with doe-like eyes and hair tied neatly in a braid and he had no words. He wanted to scream at her, throw something, force her to run from the room and never come back.

And yet he couldn't. Not a single black though came to him in the moments he sat staring at her. It seemed they were the only two left in the house. Just Erik and the angel who sat before him.

He sat for quite a few minutes with his eyes locked on her. And although he didn't know it, Christine had become uncomfortable at the weight of his eyes and gone to fetch her tweezers. When Erik finally brought himself back to the present, he found her waiting patiently with the tweezers in hand.

"May I?" She asked, gesturing to his injured limb before gently beginning the task of removing the remaining glass. Her touch nearly had him jumping off the bed. Erik had realized that he was feeling something he had never experienced before and he did not like it. It was… too giddy for him.

A stab of pain forced all other thoughts out as he was reminded of what he had done. He openly cringed and took in a harsh breath.

"Oh! I'm trying to be as careful as possible sir." Again her eyes were full of an emotion he couldn't place. Something else he had never seen.

"It… is not something you can control. I brought this on myself," he mumbled. His demons mocked and scolded him, _damn right you did._

Several apologies later, she had finished the deed. "It doesn't look as though you'll need stitches. I suppose the cuts weren't as deep as I thought." She visibly brightened. "Well that's nothing to complain about!" Erik sat like a dumb fool, simply staring at her.

It wasn't until several hours later, when his mind had finally calmed down enough to allow himself to get in bed, that he felt something small digging into the palm of his uninjured hand. Lifting it, to inspect the offending object, he found a small pebble of glass. He thought he should be angered or at least bothered by it; however he found quite the opposite. Setting down the article on his bedside table, he felt something spark in him that he hadn't felt in ages: hope.


	11. Chapter XI

_Author's Note:_ Hello all! I could come up with hundreds of excuses but the truth is that I forgot. I just wrote this, this past month so forgive me if I'm a little out of sorts. I have very little to say other than I'm working on the next chapter now, so should be up soon. As always, if you notice anything, have any suggestions, or have questions: please let me know. Your feedback is so appreciated. Thank you!

* * *

Richard III had done it, and Macbeth certainly had. So what caused such an unsettling feeling knowing Othello had too? They had all killed, with or without just cause but that shouldn't have mattered. She was at best disheartened by the others crimes- yet Othello's continued to haunt to her. She really hadn't thought of it in quite some time, and of course she also hadn't expected to have Iago read _Othello_ either but he had insisted. The minute she mentioned there was a character named Iago he was practically begging for the chance to know someone else with his name. The thought of it being even a slightly terrible idea hadn't crossed her mind so she complied and sent him off to read it. And what a terrible choice it had been.

But there Christine sat contemplating Othello's murderous actions when Iago came running back into the room in tears. She nearly fell out of her chair, he hugged her so hard.

"I don't want to be like him!"

Honestly she didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about. "What is it? Iago tell me, what's wrong?" She cupped his face, attempting to catch as many tears as she could.

"He's terrible, and mean! Miss Daae he's the devil!" He cried out loud one last time before burying his face in her shoulder and sobbing.

"Who? Was it-was it Mr. Destler? Did he do something to upset you?" He only continued to cry? "Iago please, tell me." Christine tried to keep her voice calm and comforting but, dear god if that man had done anything to hurt this child she would- well she didn't know what she would do.

He finally shook his head and mumbled into he shoulder.

"Who?"

He lifted his face to speak,"Iago! In _Othello_!"

"Iago? Oh. Oh!" Christine could have laughed if he wasn't visibly distressed. "Is that all? Him? Oh darling he's only a character in a story someone wrote a long time ago." His face crumpled as new tears began to form. Clearly that wasn't what he was looking for exactly. "Oh Iago, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have let you read that, you're too young for it! What is it about him that upset you so? Can you tell me?"

"I don't want to _be_ like him," he practically shrieked. It should have been obvious she supposed. Christine should have known better than to send a seven year old boy to read something even she couldn't grasp. And of course he would be bothered by the man he shared a name with! How could she not have thought of that? He believed he would grow up to be like him and at only seven Christine couldn't be sure that wouldn't happen. But she wouldn't tell him that.

"Come," she patted the space next to her on the seat. "Iago listen carefully to me please. This was entirely my mistake, I should not have let you read such a thing when even I cannot fully comprehend it. But you must know this: who you are, is not the man in that story. You are _not_ the Iago in Othello. He was brought down by a thirst for power and his disregard for those he should have cared about only fueled that fire. Tell me, do you care about Victoria?"

"She's my sister and I love her very much."

Christine smiled before continuing, "Yes I thought so. Iago you love and care for your sister and you want only what is best for her. You must know how very different that makes you from the man in that book. You are selfless where he was selfish and you are kind where he was cruel. So you see you are nothing like him."

"But how do you know I won't be? Someday?" His lower lip began to quiver again and she steeled herself for more tears.

There were so many comforting things Christine could have told him in that moment that would have just been fluff and so she chose the words she thought would bring him the most strength.

"Because I won't let you. There are too many who care far too much for you to let you follow any path like that. And you yourself are far too aware of what it means to be a good and just person. Do you believe me?" Children often are more stubborn than they should be but this child was not. He was as trusting and believing as the next but so willing to listen and form ideas with new facts.

"Yes." So sure and so simple. And how relieved Christine was she didn't have to convince him more.

"Good now enough dreariness for today, go play outside. It's quite nice out and you deserve it." By the way Iago jumped and beamed a smile, she would have thought he didn't to be near her anymore but she knew it was really that he was happy with the answer he'd been given and the decision he'd reached. He would spend the day with his sister outside and someday soon forget he was ever bothered by such a character.

Although in her attempt to placate him, she had her own revelation about the story. She realized what it was about Othello's crime that bothered her. It was his own disregard for the woman who loved him, the woman he supposedly loved. He killed her over the words of a man whose only intent was to destroy him. A baseless claim ruined the life of a man who really only had one thing of value: the love of a woman. Why could he not just ask? Why could no one simply ever say what they wanted to? Love seemed such a strange and complicated thing in that story, Christine almost didn't know if she ever wanted it.

She shivered at the thought.

"Cold?" She jumped and yelped in response.

"It's only a question, there's no need to be jumpy Miss Daae." Sighing, Christine turned towards the voice and ran a hand over her skirts to smooth them.

"No, although I'm not accustomed to being snuck up on sir."

"Ah. Well I apologize for having _startled_ you." The statement was biting and Christine raised her eyes to meet two very cold eyes. If he didn't know how to make an impression.

"Mr. Destler I did not mean-"

"No more on this, it's of no importance." He waved a hand dismissively and moved from the doorway, all while Christine had to force herself to swallow whatever apology she was going to give. She could handle his cold nature, it wasn't much different from her father when he'd been drinking. But she certainly did not appreciate being cut off from speaking. She was contemplating commenting on this when her employer cleared his throat and caught her blank stare. For some reason she could have sworn there was a look of respect in his eyes but it disappeared before she could evaluate it.

"You handled that child well I believe." Of course he had been listening, and she inwardly sighed at the thought of discussing it more.

"I couldn't leave him so shaken over something such an unfounded fear. He's only seven." He gave a grunt in response and shot an unimpressed look her way. "Do you not agree? Should I have left him to believe he could be so terrible to the ones he loves?" If she had time to think twice, she would have thought to add weight to the flinch he gave when she said 'love'.

"No. I am only in disagreement that he could not turn out to be terrible. The world is full of cruelty and people who will hurt you without just cause. Do you believe they were all so evil at seven?" His visible eyebrow quirked and she was reminded that she could really only read half of his expression, as hard as it was to forget.

"I do not think they were all evil at seven, no. But who am I to terrify him by saying there is a chance he could be? I will not be the one to place a fear like that into a child so pure."

"No one is pure. Not forever at least. People like Iago and Othello can taint even children like him. You don't have to put the fear of god in him but at least don't lie to him so blatantly." She thought on it for several seconds, watching as he became more tense as he spoke. Almost as if he knew what he were speaking of. But it wasn't her place to ask and she would force her curiosity out of her mind before it got her into trouble.

"Is a lie like that so terrible when done with only the best intentions? I am fully aware that I cannot speak for how he will be in 10 years, but would telling him that do him any good sir?" He remained silent for several moments in response, his expression thoughtful.

Then, "No, but I rather enjoy that you jumped to the conclusion _I_ had done something." Her eyes shot up, unable to hide her shock. How long had he been listening? Really she had already pushed her luck with his patience so much for one day.

Mr. Destler waited, his one eyebrow cocked and clearly waiting a reply. When she simply sat there with her eyes wide and worried he continued. "Do you really think I could despise a child so much to hurt them in such a way? Or is it simply because I seem that way, I must be?" Again no answer. "Miss Daae, these do require responses. I'm not here for you to simply sit and gawk at all day. As I'm certain you would _so_ enjoy doing." His eyes grew colder and his posture stiffened. Christine could almost feel the daggers going into her, and if she died then and there without having to answer, well she didn't think that would be so bad.

"I-I...I didn't-"

"Clearly you didn't. And speak words girl, if you have any to speak." Girl! She was a woman, a grown woman. She could understand that she had offended him and could even look past the rest of his biting remarks; but to treat her in such a way!

She cleared her throat and made sure to be strong this time.

"Sir, if I offended you in any way," he scoffed at this and she corrected, "I apologize. For the numerous times I have _offended_ you today sir." _Hold your tongue Christine before it gets you into trouble._

"When I asked Iago if you had done something it was justified. He had not offered a name and spoke as though a _real_ man had upset him, not a character in a book. As far as I know, you are the only man in his life who has an semblance of authority so it was only logical that I would assume you to be the culprit. I do not in any way think you'd actually harm him. You've shown me otherwise and I apologize for having assumed anything." There she had stated her case. Let him judge her, if he could at all. It wasn't as if someone had died and she'd immediately assumed it was him.

To his credit he looked surprised enough. Whether it was because she had found the words to express herself or because of what she'd said, she didn't really care.

"That was more than sufficient… Thank you Miss Daae, that will be all." And just like that, he was done. She should have been grateful; however, there was something in Christine that didn't want him to leave, something that almost enjoyed their bickering.

"Wait, please. Before you go can- Well, how are you?"

"How am I?"

"Well your cut. Has it healed since last week? I haven't had a chance to ask you." His expression became puzzled then something unrecognizable and all at once blank again. Christine tilted her head, knitting her brow at the reaction she was receiving. All she had expected was a curt answer, not such a display of emotion.

"Yes-yes I'm… fine," he finished lamely. Surprise seemed to have overtaken his thoughts.

"Are you alright sir?"

"Yes...yes! I'm fine." He paused to breathe, "Miss Daae, I shall be gone for a week's time but when I return I'll be going around the grounds. If would would not mind joining me. THank you." He didn't even wait for her to reply before he left the room, practically ran from it. He did not meet her eye as he brushed past her, rather focused his gaze to the ground before retreating. For a moment Christine wondered if he'd even asked her, but for his echoing footsteps, she knew it had been real.

A walk? Why on earth would he be compelled to ask her on a walk, they weren't friends, and he certainly didn't respect her.

Shaking her head Christine resolved not to dwell on the matter. There was no way to make sense of a man like Mr. Destler.


	12. Chapter XII

**_Author's Note_** **: My, my, it has been a while. For those of you still with me on this journey, welcome back! From here on out I make no promises of when I'll update, only that I will. Life is too mercurial and unpredictable for me to make such a promise. But nonetheless, here I am. And here is a new chapter! Somewhat of a filler, but you may notice that I'm still getting my footing as a writer so plot lines are not my strong suit as of yet. I believe after this chapter we should be picking up some momentum soon so stay tuned. I am quite excited to continue this and see where it goes. In all honesty, I am not a writer who has everything meticulously planned out to the last period. Rather, I like to think the story tells itself to me. And as absolutely, horrifyingly cliche as that is, it's the truth. But I digress so as per usual:** please let me know if you notice anything, have any suggestions, or have questions. Your feedback is always appreciated. Thank you!

* * *

Christine was quickly finding that rain was not a precious commodity in England. And the English summer was nothing like the ones at home in France. There it was warm and the sun shone all day, making ones skin pink to the point it hurt. When she was younger her parents would take her out to the ocean to get away from the stress of everyday life.

A small laugh bubbled up at the memory of one summer in particular. With her pale skin and unwillingness to stay out of direct sun, her skin had blushed so deeply it had begun to peel before the day had even began. Still, she had insisted on going out into the water- her mother and father sitting side by side on the shore. How _happy_ they were. If she closed her eyes she was certain she could still hear them whispering things and giggling to each other. But that was the past and the happy memories she could fondly think of were just that: memories. As hard as it was for Christine to think about how quickly things took a dark turn as her mother's illness progressed.

But this was today, not the past and she would do what she could with the muggy english summer.

"Come on Christine," she mumbled to herself, "you can't sit inside and sulk all day." Of course deep in thought, she failed to notice Mrs. Giry enter the room with a tray of tea and cakes. The older woman did not try to hide her presence and set the tray down heavily and sighed. She noticed Christine jump and let out a full laugh.

"Oh dear! You were somewhere far off to have not heard me," she said as she let out another small laugh. "By no means am I the nimble young woman I once was! Oh ho no no!"

Christine sheepishly looked up from her seat and smiled, "Sorry Mrs. Giry, I suppose I'm just not used to this weather yet. Do you think it's strange?"

"Think what is strange dear?" Mrs. Giry sat herself down, just as heavily as she did the tray. She blinked with wide eyes and leaned in to show her interest, an action that did not deliver the desired result. If anything Christine sat back and slumped in her chair.

"Oh, just… It sounds so silly now!" She shook her head and pursed her lips. "But do you think it's odd that I find myself missing the weather in France? Maybe I wasn't meant to move away from home," she finished by sliding even further down in her chair. She sheepishly peered over at her companion only to find her offering a sympathetic look.

Mrs. Giry shook her head and smiled, "No of course that's not strange child!"

As embarrassing as it was, Christine did worry about it and she was interested, "Really?" She slid up a bit and quirked an eyebrow.  
"Oh Christine! Why I remember when I first moved away from home! Oh dear I was so distraught for the first several months." She nodded matter matter of factly before adding, "But of course that's a story for another time! Please, that's enough about me for today. But tell me Christine, why did you move so far away from home?"

If she was expecting any probing today, she certainly wasn't expecting this. Perhaps something on why she spent so much time in the library, something along those lines. But she _had_ opened the door.

But Mrs. giry wasn't done, and she continued without missing a beat, "I don't mean to pry dear. It's clear you miss home but I wonder why so far away."

Christine smiled softly, "It isn't that I wanted to move away from home, and I know I'll miss it terribly every day," she leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. "I've just-," she sighed, "all my life I've wanted to see the world. And as much as I love and miss home, I know I'm doing what I always wanted to, and- and I find that comforting." She continued to stare at the ceiling and smiled at it as though it were smiling back at her. All the while her companion remained quiet and offered a simple comforting look in return.

"Oh Christine, you are so much stronger than you think you are. Goodness I can not wait to see what you grow into once you get a slice of the world." The Giry woman leaned forward and patted her leg before standing. "Well I best get back to it, Mr. Destler returns tomorrow and I'll not have this house looking like he's cleaning it." She shook a finger at Christine, "No, no, no. if there's one thing I do better than him it's keep this place moving. Oh and the tea and cakes are for you but do try not to finish them in one sitting." She winked and took her leave, with Christine staring off into the space she'd just vacated. One thing Mrs. Giry had said echoed through the silence: " _you are so much stronger than you think you are._ "

 _Oh Mrs. Giry, if only that were true._


	13. Chapter XIII

**_Author's Note:_** **So I lied, two in one night. I figure I've been gone for so long I may as well. You may or may not have noticed some allusions to a certain disney character in the last chapter. If you did, kudos! Like many young women I was influenced by a handful of heroines who exemplify what I now aspire to be. Of course Jane Eyre is one of them; however the most prominent one (and yes I will risk being even more cliche) is Disney's Belle from Beauty and the Beast. So yes another lesson of beauty being within and not judging a book by it's cover. But! What I always loved and admired about her was how she was unapologetically herself. Not to mention she loved to read which was something I found (growing up) to be very rare in female role models for children. So you may find that my Christine will have hints of several characters from here and there. Among them you may find Julie Jordan, Princess Anne (Roman Holiday), Leia, Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing) and others but I'll leave it to you to decide who my Christine reminds you of.  
You may have also noticed I've begun to stray a bit more from the Jane Eyre plot to create my own, which of course is still heavily influenced by the story. I want it to be influenced but not be nearly scene for scene. Of course there are a few pivotal moments that I will either change dialogue for or alter slightly because they are just to gorgeous, or entertaining to write off. I also realized I did not respond to those of you who have commented recently so here we go:**

 **Masked Man 2: How very apt indeed! And might I add, boy do I enjoy a good pseudonym. That is honestly exactly what I'm going for with how Erik's appearance affects his actions, thoughts, etc. Aside from it being a widely under discussed topic, body issues are very real and I think it's something to really address. Within my story I mean. Helping everyone overcome their body issues would take far longer although I do hope anyone reading my writings understands that you are your harshest critic and you are beautiful no matter what. Getting Erik to understand that... well that's a task I intend to complete. And thank you! I hope you grow to admire her even more in the coming chapters as she grows.**

 **MyraValhallah: Thank you! As cliche and overly written about the turn of the century is, I can't help but love it. There is so much romance in the culture, architecture, style, and literature of the time. It just makes for a perfect storm.**

Everyonedeserveslove: Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. Enjoy!

Sorry for the longer intro but I'm just getting back on the horse and boy do I love to discuss the decisions I make in my writing. As per usual, if you notice anything; have any questions, concerns, or suggestions; or just want to comment on something, please let me know. But without further ado, voila!

* * *

The night passed with ease, and indeed Christine found herself almost comforted by the summer rain and muggy morning. Whether or not her joy had anything to do with the return of one Mr. Destler, she would not acknowledge. Although as nice as it was to converse with Meg, Mrs. Giry, and the children, she found herself wanting conversation that would challenge her intellect. Something she had found, would only be fulfilled in the company of her employer.

Before his departure, he had asked her to join him on a walk around the grounds,and unusual request given the nature of their previous meetings. She had not thought them to be pleasant but nonetheless found him to be a man of culture and intellect. Though by no means would she reveal as much to him, certain that in would entertain his already large ego. Assuredly what he lacked in looks he made up for in wit. Having thought it over, he was by no means a typically handsome man. He was rugged looking but that also didn't mean he was hideous. Not as far as she could tell… of course half of the truth isn't really the truth at all and she could only see half of his features. And try as she might she couldn't help but imagine what he hid under the guise of a mask. Despite always being taught not to judge a book by its cover, that beauty is on the inside, she did enjoy the appeal of a pretty label.

Hopping down the stairs, Christine practically ran over a well dressed man who was unwittingly standing in her path.

"Oh forgive me! I hadn't realized anyone was there!" She reached over to examine the man, making sure no injury was to be added to her embarrassment.

To his credit the man merely smiled and responded calmly, "Oh please don't worry about me after all I wa-" he paused mid phrase, a shocked look coming over his features.

Christine herself widened her eyes thinking she had forgotten a vital piece of dress.

"Christine? I-is that you?" This time it was Christine's turn to appear shocked.

She stumbled over her words, "I- sir. I apologize bu-but I can't say we've met." She furrowed her brow and readjusted her skirts in an orderly fashion. She took the time to examine the man in front of her from head to toe. He was clearly wealthy, that much was obvious from his person alone. His hair was perfectly styled and arranged around his shoulders, smooth and honey coloured. He had the face of a man who had been pampered all his life, no signs of age and not a scratch in site, he was by all accounts handsome. And some odd feeling within Christine told her she was wrong and they had indeed met before. Of course the only people she knew of out here were-

"Philippe!" She nearly shrieked his name and she saw him nod eagerly.

He bowed slightly, "At your service Miss Daae," he glanced up and smirked as he saw her grin grow.

She hugged him tightly, "Oh, Philippe what are you doing here of all places?"

He grinned back and opened his mouth to respond but it wasn't his voice that filled the foyer.

"Am I not entitled to the company of others Miss Daae?" In truth Christine jumped a bit, having not heard his voice for a few days. "Or must I simply surround myself with the likes of you," he asked peering down at her with yellow eyes.

However before she could insert a witty and possibly snide remark, Philippe came to her aide. "Oh don't mind him Lotte, he simply doesn't know a good time when he sees one," he barked out with a laugh. She grimaced at the thought of anyone wishing to be true friends with this man, a fact he undoubtedly noticed before narrowing his eyes at her.

Erik turned back to Philippe, rolling his eyes, "Yes well we can't all have the charm of a man raised to be the Comte de Chagny can we… And- I'm sorry did you say Lotte?" Christine visibly blushed. _Oh no_.

"It- it's," she huffed in annoyance at her own embarrassment, "If you must know it's a little old childhood nickname."

"Oh Christine you down play how very much you enjoyed it! Little Lotte," Philippe turned to Erik, "she refused to go by anything else for an entire summer."

"Yes, well at least I'm not the one who fell out of a tree that summer." The man had the good sense to blush at that. How very ruthless this woman was.  
For his part, Erik merely stood by and watched with mild curiosity. It wasn't everyday he saw people interact in such a… familiar way. It seemed comfortable.

Christine shook her head, much of her half-up hair moving with it.

"But in truth Christine I am only here for a short while then I'm off on another business venture." He heard Erik scoff next to him.

"A _business_ venture he calls it. Since when did sleeping around become a business venture," Erik mumbled mostly to himself although all those present could clearly hear his remarks. He earned a good kick in the shin for that. For two men who considered themselves friends or something like it, Christine was confused by their level of banter.

"It's been that since I said so," Philippe commented through gritted teeth.

Erik cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back. "Yes well, you 'business venture should be here any moment. And do take care to be more quiet this time." He smiled darkly. " If Mrs. Giry asks I won't hide where all the noise is coming from."

"Oh!" Both men whipped around to Christine having almost forgotten she were there. "So you're the Philippe Meg is always going on about! Well good luck, she certainly has it in for you today." For a grown man, Philippe De Chagny was undoubtedly shy about making public his personal affairs. Odd, considering how many other men in his position could go on for days about their numerous mistresses.

"Hm, yes well Miss Daae, if you don't mind. I do believe I promised you a tour of the grounds." Mr. Destler turned his direct attention back at her before abruptly heading for the door.

Christine turned to Philippe one last time before following her employer out the door, "Well, Philippe it really was very good to see you. Give my best to Raoul!"


	14. Chapter XIV

_Author's Note:_ The prodigal child returns at last. It has been some time since I have last been here to update but as promised I will continue. Again, I give no promises of when, only that I will. I won't try to give much away here but I want this chapter to allow a change in tone. Turning points in relationships have always been a favorite of mine. The moment something changes from one thing to another is quite special I believe. And although I think it probably changed before this moment, it is somewhat more tangliable. Let me tell you, I have taken the time I haven't been here to read and plan, and I have a much clearer idea for the direction of this story. So I thank you for your patience. Please understand like all people, I am fallible and things beyond my control may occur.  
 **I really think it's important for relationships to take time to manifest themselves and grow and I plan for that to happen with this one. Love is complicated and painful, it never has run smooth.**

 **ArtemisBare: I'm glad you've enjoyed it thus far. Thank you! As cliche as it may be, I have always thought Jane Eyre is a literary masterpiece. I can't remember if I've said this before but it was the first book I stayed up all night to read so it hold a special place in my heart. And I can promise you one thing: I will not quit until I have finished.**

 **Anonymous: Thank you very much! Honestly sometimes it feels as though reading is a lost art but it is nice to know people catch my little nods to literary works. I do very much appreciate you compliments. I try only to be true and allow some of my own voice to seep into my writing. Of course I am new to this so I still have some ways to go!**

 **As usual:** if you notice anything; have any questions, concerns, or suggestions; or just want to comment on something, please let me know. And here you are!

* * *

For a man who wanted company on a walk he certainly did move quickly. Christine nearly tripped over herself trying to catch up to him.

He threw her a backward glance, quirking his brow before continuing walking.

"Do keep up Miss Daae, I intend to be through before the day is done."

 _Before the day is done… it's barely even begun_

"Sir, if you would just slow down!" Her voiced raised the slightest pitch and she cringed at how much she sounded like a child. Ahead of her Erik abruptly stopped and slowly turned to face her. Christine flushed but attempted to hold his eyes.

"Well, you've succeeded in capturing my attention," he made a flourishing gesture, "and if you wouldn't mind attempting to keep up, we may continue." He waited with false patience as she made her way over to him, then continue at a pace he believed she could match.

For sometime they walked in silence, although for Christine it felt far from a comfortable one. She had yet to feel completely at ease with this man. He seemed far too tense about nearly everything. They continued around the gardens and out farther onto the grassy knolls adorning the countryside. He certainly did have a substantial amount of land for someone who seemed to care nothing for it. Christine thought he wasn't there enough to fully appreciate his own home. How strange: a man who had so much but cared so little. What then, she asked herself, did he care for.

Christine took the silence as time to look at him, _really_ look at him. She knew he was tall, much taller than herself. In fact he seemed to tower over her, though perhaps she wasn't very tall to begin with. He had dark hair that she had believed to just be black, although it looked to be streaked with grey and maybe even amber. It was difficult tell from her angle. She couldn't see his eyes clearly but she remembered they were yellow. Certainly an odd color for a person's eyes and not one she had ever seen before. Then of course there was the mask. As off-putting as it should have been, it somehow intrigued her. It covered more than half his face, she could see that now. His forehead, most of his nose, and just below his right jaw were hidden. And… she knew what lay beneath it. She knew how terrible it looked. Truly, she had been startled by it and maybe if she had a choice in seeing it, it wouldn't have been so bad. Such a horrible thing to think, she turned her face away from him in shame at how cruel her thoughts were.

More than likely he had felt her staring long ago but had chosen to say nothing of, something she was grateful for. How terribly embarrassing to explain yourself if you were caught.

They continued walking, making their way up and over a small bridge crossing a stream. It was sudden and unexpected when Erik stopped walking and turned to her, his eyes downturned.

"It," he cleared his throat. "It is not that I dislike you," he said as he raised his eyes to hers. And confused as she was she attempted to hide, albeit poorly. Erik continued in explanation. "When I wounded myself," he turned away for a moment and clenched his jaw. It seemed to Christine that he did not often have to explain himself, or do whatever it was he was seeking to do.

"When I- _that_ night, you mentioned you believed I do not… _like_ you." Erik stared at her hard and she realised he must be waiting for a reply. Rather, Christine chose to turn and seat herself on the stone railing of the bridge.

"Quite justified I believe sir." She now stared back expectantly.

"No, no quite justified. He sat. "Please understand I'm unused to-," he gestured aimlessly at her.

"Interacting with people," she provided with a small smile.

Erik seemingly ignored her comment. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "I want to properly thank you for what you did. You certainly did not have to stay and deal with my mess or temper for that matter." _Goodness he is flustered._ "No one, would have done what you did...not after what you saw." Christine could see some unguarded emotion akin to pain behind his eyes and she regretted ever having felt anything other than empathy for him. His visible, usually stony features appeared weighed down by his confession. He didn't deserve her disgust and he didn't deserve her sympathy. No, she decided, he needed a friend. And really so did she.


End file.
